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Updated: June 16, 2025
Jack went behind the counter, and, selecting a bottle of rot-gut whisky, poured out a stiff glassful apiece. "Drink it, pard," he said. Hogan did so, nothing loath. "That's the right sort," he said, smacking his lips. "It's warming to the stomach." So it was and a frequent indulgence in the vile liquid would probably have burned his stomach and unfitted it for service.
"Get a plumber first if you want to kiss me you leak." "He thinks you need a shower bath," said Dirty Eddie, laughing. "The trouble with Soup Face," explained The Sky Pilot, "is that he's got a idea he's a human atomizer an' that the rest of us has colds." "Well, I don't want no atomizer loaded with rot-gut and garlic shot in my mug," growled Blackie.
But what's the use of that, when they can take four or five pounds a day over the counter for their rot-gut stuff at the 'Cadogan Arms, and I can't do no better nor yet perhaps so well, for a real honest glass of beer. Stretch it! It's my belief the more you poison their liquor, the more the people likes it!"
Of an Irish family! must have been hundreds of years back, and the bluid spoiled long before it got into his veins, by bad whiskey or something worse. It takes the raal potheen, that smacks of the smoke of the still, to keep up the bluid of an Irishman. Rot-gut would ruin St. Patrick himself if he were alive and could be got to taste it.
I guess you could argue on the quality and quantity of rot-gut whisky a good engineer ought to drink, better than on theology, anyhow." I never heard any of the gang twit Joe about the Mormons again.
"It's all below, every bottle of it," answered Tom: "I wouldn't use such rot-gut stuff, no, not for vinegar. 'Taint half so good as that red sherry you had up here oncet; that was poor weak stuff, too, but it did well to make milk punch of; it did well instead of milk." "Now, Frank," said Archer, "you won't believe me, that I know; but it's true, all the same.
They were stationed right where they deployed from the junks. Men were put in guard over them. At Tien Tsin they had behaved rather badly, I was told by one of them, had gone on a Samshu jag ... a Chinese drink, worse than the worst American "rot-gut." ... "Wisht I c'd git off the dock an' rustle up another drink somewheres."
A barrel of the vilest "rot-gut" that was ever smuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefully secreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the "bluestone" with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would work the passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the proper crime-committing pitch.
Asking many folks' pardon, to tear through the air in an open car, deafened, hilariously muddled by the rush and roar of wind, is to drive observation from the mind: it is to be, in a manner, complacently, intellectually unconscious; is to drink an enjoyment akin to that of the shooters of the chute, or that got on the very latest of this sort of engine of human amusement called the "Hully-Gee-Whizz," a pleasure of the ignorant, metaphorically, a kind of innocents' rot-gut whiskey.
Smell that, Mr. Hartigan. Ain't that the real magollyon? But all the same here she goes." He tipped the keg a little and some liquor spilled out. "See that? You get the gold? I tell you, Mr. Hartigan, that green rot-gut is poison, but you can tell when it's real by the shine. If it is whiskey it shines yellow like corn, if it is vitriol it shines green." He took a glass and filled it.
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